


Grieg- Sonata No.3

by Bananas45



Category: B: The Beginning (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Minatsuki plays piano, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 23:18:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14295618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananas45/pseuds/Bananas45
Summary: Music from your past evokes such vivid memories. Minatsuki tries a different approach with Koku.





	Grieg- Sonata No.3

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago but never posted it because it's so weird. Minatsuki has pianists hands and Koku playing Violin is just brilliant.  
> I know the two of them barely interact but they're both so pretty! I'm superficial like that. 
> 
> The two pieces are both ones I played quite recently and the Sonata really reminded me of these two.  
> In case anyone is interested they're:  
> Edvard Grieg - Violin Sonata No. 3, Op. 45  
> Mussorgsky - Pictures at an Exhibition (original piano version)
> 
> Anyway this fic is a bit of a mess...I don't think inside Koku's head is very nice...I tried to make it difficult  
> No one asked for this. I'm sorry.

He couldn’t hear it at first over the sound of the kettle but now he can. Someone is playing. Koku can hear from where he is making tea. They’re not playing violin though. He’s learnt to drown out the sound of people screeching on newly bought, newly repaired wood and cat -gut all wound up to create something beautiful. It’s grotesque. Then again, everything beautiful seems to be. The words ring out in his head but they’re not his own and he shakes his head softly like a cat with a tic in its ear. Someone’s playing piano. Mussorgsky, picture at an exhibition, 3rd movement, old castle, bar 10. He was listening to it last night. Strange how that happens. Those little moments of serendipity. Who needs memories when you can just live.  
They have a beautiful old grand piano in a side room but it’s rare that anyone goes into it and Koku wonders who would have. Go look.  
No.  
He continues to stir the tea bag.  
He closes his eyes and a strand of hair falls across his eye and he listens for a moment. Whoever is playing is good. Really good. Maybe better than him on violin. They probably have delicate fingers. No, long and slender but not delicate. Efficient. They’re playing the 4th movement now Children quarreling and at play. You can hear it in the tune and they way he- they- whoever it is, is playing. Koku can see it now, in between the notes and the suspension, the rush of children as they play in the midday sun and fight over the simplest of things, arguments forgotten by sunset. Someone is in his back room playing his favourite piece and reminiscing on things Koku can’t even grasp. It sits somewhere between a taunt and a seduction. Regardless, it makes his breath stutter and his hands tighten on the worktop.  
Ballad of the unhatched chicks.  
This one he always skipped. It was too frantic. He’s being played with and he’s falling for it. Go through and see who it is. Who’s playing like that. Every note is another little hit at the wall he built himself and it wears him down. Every fucking note drives breath out his lungs and into the hot afternoon. He squeezes his eyes shut. Stop it, Stop it, STOP IT and it stops. 

Koku? Ko-Ku

“Koku!” It’s Lily’s dad, looking mildly concerned “I was calling for you.”  
His head aches and his chest is heaving and he wonders how long he’s been standing here. “Come and meet this guy. He’s amazing.You’ll love him”  
“I could hear him” Koku smiles softly and then adds. “I was making tea”  
He picks up the cups. It’s gone cold anyway. 

“There is something amazing about this piece. All these stories and all these people- Immortalized into two art forms. Have you seen the paintings?” 

Koku knows that voice but he can’t stop himself from walking now. No.8 -With the dead in a dead language. It used to make him cry as a boy. It used to make me cry. When did he hear it before? He chases the thought but it slips away into the chromaticism. 

“But everyone dies. His friend died and he died. The moment is so quietly reflective. I don’t think he was scared at all. Who can be scared of something so inevitable” wouldn’t you agree Koku. 

His eye flashes before he can help it and he covers it with a gasp. Someone has taken a needle to his lungs and popped a hole. He doesn’t remember but he knows. Oh god he knows. Knows what?  
Blonde hair pulled back into it a messy ponytail. Little silk strands falling across his face and shoulders. Koku watches the sinews of his fingers and forearms move as he plays the next movement, fast and wild. His bright, sea blue eyes, the type of eyes you can lose yourself in, flash up away from the keys and catch Koku’s with a gentle smile. He’s being mocked.  
A blazer lies on the seat beside the piano stool and in the setting sun, air heavy with dust from the unused keys, the air flitters gently through it and reflects of the ivory onto his face, he looks angelic. Koku swallows, frozen in place with fear.  
Lucifer was an angel once too.  
The final chord rings out and he feels himself tense for battle. He could hear a pin drop as those hands leave the keys. There is a crack like lightning and Koku almost jumps. It’s just applause.  
“Oh please” Those lips form a modest smirk and a soft, ungloved hand rests gently on a flushing cheek as he stands. Fingers stretching and knuckles cracking. “I haven’t played in years” 

Do you remember? Of course you don’t. 

“Koku plays!” Lily’s dad says, slapping him on the back and holding him forward like a trophy. Or a lamb for slaughter. “He’ll play whichever violin you choose for your friend” He says.  
“Oh No, no it’s fine. He should really see it for himself. He’s very particular about his instruments but what you’ve shown me is promising” Those eyes flicker over him and Koku almost growls. “I’m just pleased I found the place” He looks around. “I’m sorry I used up your time.”  
“Not at all!”  
Koku slips away behind the counter and arranges the rosin into little eyes but he can feel those eyes on him still. Can feel the tension rise from the tips of his fingers up to his shoulder blades. Run, run Koku, run.  
“I’ll write your name incase I’m not in” They’re chatting away happily. “What was it again?” 

“Minatsuki” 

Koku swallows carefully and tries not to move to much. Like when you’re a kid and you think there is a monster in the room, so you stay stalk still until you think, until you pray, it’s gone. 

“Koku was it?” That voice, like honey or tar, something you wouldn’t want to drown in even if it might seem satisfying. He feels his chest tighten, like someone replaced all the oxygen with ice. The shop is too busy to start a fight and besides Koku isn’t even sure that’s what Minatsuki came here for.  
“Yes” He murmurs, eyes down cast. Minatsuki tilts his head down to catch his eyes before the hit the floor.  
“I’d love to play with you sometime If what Mr. Hoshina says is true.”  
“Oh come on Koku just play for him now!”  
They exchange a glance and Minatsuki’s eyes shine with glee.  
“Yes Koku” It’s little more than a breath. 

He tunes to Minatsuki’s A and with a pluck holds the violin under his chin as he rosins his bow.  
“You’re playing Grieg? Which Sonata?” Minatsuki asks softly. The tension ripples between them like sound waves and Koku can barely keep his breath straight.  
“Uh, 3rd” He says and puts the music on his stand. Mr. Hoshina seems unaware of it all, his hands clasped together in excitement. He’s glad someone is happy.  
“What sort of speed” Minatsuki asks. His hands forming over the shape of the notes but not pressing down.  
“Allegro” He says and clears his throat and his nerves. He will not try anything. This whole thing is a mind game and Koku wont play.  
“I’ll try and keep up” Minatsuki says with a smirk, eyes on the sheet music. The sun has dipped between a cloud and Koku shivers in his shirt. Minastuksi rolls up his sleeves and cracks his fingers.  
“Yes” Koku says. “Do”  
Minatsuki pauses and stares then shakes his head a little, lip quirked downward.  
“On you go”  
There is silence. The type of silence that makes you hear silence, that soft hiss of absolute nothing before Koku breathes in sharply through his nose.  
He plays it faster than he should but it catches Minatsuki of guard and that’s enough to make him happy. They move into the major and Minatsuki follows his speeds, his time changes, anticipates all his slow ups. It’s like trying to shake your own shadow. Minatsuki clings. 

Do you enjoy running? 

They imitate each other. Minatsuki’s fingers playing the same notes just a second after. 

We’re right behind you. 

Koku ignores the taunting. The piece slows and Minatsuki looks wild from where Koku can see him, a strand of hair curling into his lip as his hands fly painfully fast across the keys. He must look worse. 

You know what I want. Koku begs as the piece slows into melancholy and he drags himself through the long notes. Let’s himself be pulled apart by it. 

And surely you know by now that i’m not giving it up, Koku. 

A spark flies through him as he speeds up, rage pulling his fingers up the strings. Minatsuki facilitates his collapse and as his fingers race to keep up with his head he feels Minatsuki grin. 

You’re falling apart. He’s unsure who says it or who it’s meant for. 

A bow hair comes off, swinging softly as the others continue to be dragged along. It’s the same colour as Minatsuki’s hair. This is a game, they’re testing the water of each other's weaknesses and Minatsuki hits hard and fast. Attrition through music. Koku wants to laugh. 

It’s part of military warfare, he read somewhere, to break your enemies down by taking away the simplest escapes. Minatsuki had clearly been reading too. 

You’ve corrupted everything. His nose curls in anger, stings like he’s going to cry. 

I wanted you to know nowhere is safe, not even this little haven you’ve created yourself. 

The notes carry their thoughts and Koku feels himself crumble. He’s losing in this mess and he promised himself he wouldn’t. He squeezes his eyes shut and adjusting his chin as he speeds up. They’re coming close to the end and Minatsuki is drunk of the desperate frantiticsm of Koku.  
Faster Koku, faster, faster.  
Blue eyes wide with a lust he never lets himself feel.  
Koku holds the top C with enough conviction to break the string and slams the bottom one with enough fervour that the bow bounces awkwardly on the down pull, scratching slightly. 

Mr. Hoshina doesn’t clap and the couple with their child, looking at music books have stopped to stare. 

The silence is punctuated by the occasional sound from outside and Minatsuki stands with a sigh. 

“Well done Koku!” Minatsuki says, grinning like a stray dog. The type you avoid or shoot. “I’m sure we’ll find another time to play!” 

His ears ring with the piece they’ve played. It’s tainted now and Koku doubts he’ll bother learning the second movement. His fingers are sore from that and with a detached sigh he goes to pack up. 

“Did you know him?” Mr. Hoshina asks and Koku watches him walk away down the street back into the night and he thinks for a moment and then another. Body still tense, mind still thrumming he feels himself disengage like a uncoiling snake, or a re-strung string. 

“Know who?” He asks softly.


End file.
